


To-Do List

by fictive_frolic



Series: Thor One Shots [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Domestic Bliss, F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21522688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictive_frolic/pseuds/fictive_frolic
Summary: Some of Thor's old habits die hard.
Relationships: Thor/Reader
Series: Thor One Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551238
Comments: 2
Kudos: 63





	To-Do List

Thor leaned against the door frame and watched you. Your hair was piled on the top of your head, held in place precariously with a few pins. You had a list of things to be done and you were working through them steadily. Currently, you were scrubbing a pan like you were angry at it. If you were angry at anyone, it was probably him. 

He sighed and opened his mouth to say something and shut it again. When you’d gotten out of bed frustrated and upset, he should have followed. He should have kissed you stupid and carried you back to the bedroom. Reminded you that you were a queen. Not his maid.

But he hadn’t done that.

He turned and left the kitchen with his cup of coffee, going to get ready for the day. He couldn’t look at himself as he got dressed. He hated what the years of neglect had done. The softness that had taken over what used to be hard and chiseled. But it didn’t matter. Your taste in clothing was impeccable. You knew what his sizes were and you’d spent a long time building his current wardrobe. Warm knitted sweaters, button-downs, flannels, jeans, t-shirts. Comfortable but functional. He felt a little better wearing that than he had in sweats. He was a king, technically. And now he felt a little more like one. 

Thor knew he wasn’t a perfect husband.

Old habits died hard and he could be arrogant. He could be thoughtless. But that hadn’t been the problem this morning. This morning when you’d kissed him slowly and moved to straddle his hips, the desire had practically radiated off of you. It had been weeks since he’d made love to you. Since he’d felt confident enough to touch you that way. This morning as you bent over him to start kissing his neck, kissing down his body, he’d stopped you. Pulling away from you, despite the erection that throbbed in his sweats. He couldn’t see your face but he felt you go cold. He could see the hurt. You had sighed and fled the bedroom quietly, changing clothes in the closet. Thor hadn’t been able to watch you leave. Dressed for utility and function. Men’s cargo pants and a flannel that wasn’t his. That bothered him. You stole his sweaters and flannels all the time. He liked it. You drowned in them, like a little kid playing dress-up. But he always knew you were warm and comfortable. It looked cute. Better on you than it did on him. You didn’t steal them when you were mad at him. He shouldn’t say mad. You had a slow temper. Hurt. When you were hurt. That was probably more accurate. 

Thor sat on the porch, sipping coffee, listening to you rattle around in the house. There was no music playing, like there usually was. It was silent but for the sound of your working and the tread of your feet on the wood floors. You brushed past him, taking the trash out. You kept your head down and didn’t pause to kiss his cheek. Thor stared at the teardrop that had hit the wooden step and his stomach twisted unpleasantly. You hurled the trash into the dumpster and paused to wipe your face on your sleeve. Trying to collect yourself to keep working your way through the list of things you had to do. It didn’t matter if your husband didn’t find you attractive, you supposed. He took care of things so you didn’t have to. He cared about you still. That was enough. Most of the time. But today you just needed more. The longer you scrubbed and straightened and organized and fielded calls from parents anxious about sending their kids to a Midgardian school… You just. You felt tired. And tense. You craved physically exertion that felt good. That wasn’t just endless thankless tasks. 

Thor watched you disappear around the corner of the house, about to start pulling in herbs and vegetables to get them ready for canning and drying. He wondered how long it had been since you’d just run yourself a bath and relaxed with a book and a glass of wine. How long it had been since you hadn’t just gotten up in the morning and worked. He poured himself a second coffee and turned to go to the yard. Maybe he could help, make the work go faster. He paused, unsure of what to do. You were breaking a sweat. Your flannel around your waist, hair coming down around your face, hiding it from view. “Sweetheart?” he asked. “Yes?” you answer, not looking up and his heart twists. You’re literally hiding from him. Refusing to look up. You’re too busy to cry but that doesn’t stop the frustrated tears that keep spilling down your cheeks. You’re a frustrated crier. Thor steps carefully over the painstakingly organized rows of herbs and puts his hands on your shoulders. You freeze and you can feel yourself holding your breath. Thor frowns at the tension in your body. He hadn’t noticed it this morning. This morning all he’d felt was the heat and the silk of your skin. The eager pressure of your lips. “Y/N,” he said softly, trying to tilt your chin up to make you look at him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, not fighting your resistance to looking at him. “Nothing,” you say, shaking your head, “It’s nothing.” He cups your cheek and strokes your cheekbone with his thumb, “You’re crying,” he says, “ you don’t cry over nothing.” 

You shake your head and pull away, wiping your eyes on the back of your hand as you turn away. “It’s fine,” you repeat, kneeling to start putting tomatoes in a basket. You don’t want to ask why he didn’t want you anymore. You didn’t think your heart could take hearing a list of every flaw that you already knew you had. You just. You missed the way he used to look at you. It made your knees tremble. It had made you burn with lust. Now there was just absent fondness and chaste kisses. Dutiful little pecks, really. Thor knelt next to you and started looking to the perfectly ripe tomatoes. He stayed quiet and you were thankful. You couldn’t seem to stop the frustrated tears that kept coming. Your throat burned from the strain of holding yourself together and you felt sick to your stomach. There was no way you could trust your voice. 

Before the snap, after you’d first been married, Thor had been adamant that you were his queen. The love of his life. He hadn’t cared about your past. But after the snap, after he’d brought you back to him, he had hardly touched you. It had been a year since he’d brought you back. He was different. So very different, but beautiful still. Still your Thor. Your love. The spouse you promised to keep forever. You felt the same. Clearly, he didn’t. You didn’t know if it was someone else and you pushed the thought away when it stabbed at you. 

Thor’s hand stilled and he watched you. You were holding yourself in such tight control that you were trembling. He could see the tension ratcheting down on your body. It was like you were shrinking into yourself, getting smaller and smaller by the minute. He reached for you, wanting to pull you to him but you pull away. You can’t take it. You need more than the soft, chaste touches. It feels worse than not being touched at all. You don’t even know where you’re going. 

Vaguely towards the woods. Where you can’t be followed. Where you can have your cry out and watch the creek. 

Thor watches you go. Your feet pounding the rocky dirt. The sob that ripped from you as you went is more than frustration. It’s heartbreak. He winces. He knows it isn’t all this morning and his turning you aside. As he sits on his knees in the grass, he can’t really remember the last time he was properly affectionate toward you. Pulling you into his arms just to hold you for the sake of touching you. He felt like an ass. He took the vegetables to the meeting house to be canned and went home. He wished he was a better cook, that he could make you a hot meal. He settled for putting the kettle on. You liked tea. 

By the time you come home, wrung out and red-eyed, you’re so fucking tired. 

You stare at the list on the counter listlessly and sigh. Thor puts the mug of hot tea by your hand and comes to wrap his arms around you. Tenderly pulling you back against him and pressing a soft kiss into your neck. “I know you don’t love me anymore, it’s okay. You don’t have to pretend,” you say softly. Thor freezes and his heart drops. You think he doesn’t love you. You take his silence as admittance and pull away. “I’m going to go pack my things. The laundry’s done. And the dishes… Someone can help you with the garden. I- you deserve to be with someone you still want to be with.” You don’t look at him. You can’t but it doesn’t stop Thor from seeing you starting to cry again. You turn to go and Thor listens to the pounding of your feet on the stairs. 

You think he doesn’t love you. Unacceptable. 

He moves as quietly as he can on the stairs. He can hear you sniffling as you pack. Clothes being shoved roughly into a bag. Things being left behind. The pretty dresses and shoes you liked to wear. That you never had a chance to wear anymore because it was just endless work. The pretty undergarments that went under them that stirred his blood. Left in the drawers. The jewelry he bought you left behind in favor of a few books and a stuffed bear he bought you once when you were ill. He opens the door and crosses the floor without thinking. He pulls you by the waist, walking you back against the wall and pinning your wrists above your head to keep them still. He has to do this before he can think. You can’t be allowed to think he doesn’t want you anymore. Not when losing you had torn him apart the first time. You’re panting and a little alarmed but he kisses you any way. 

Hard. 

He crushes your lips against his hungrily and in his haste, your shirt was torn in half on the floor. You melted into him. Eager and tentative at the same time. Thor can taste the salt of tears on your lips and feel the desperation flowing through you. When you melt a little more, he lets your wrists go, lifting you easily and carrying you to the bed. There are no words. He can’t put into words his disappointment in himself. His terror that you were really going to go. Just how much he loved you. How he’d wanted to do just this every single time you’d tried to tempt him. He kisses and petted, finding every one of the spots that made you burn for him. and a few of them that made you giggle, just because he missed that little sound. He made you come until you were silently pleading for him, imploring him to give you just one more thing. Himself. 

As he sank into you slowly and your legs wrapped around his waist to pull him closer he didn’t resist. He sinks down to kiss you again. Ignoring the impulse to pull away when his belly pushes against you. His hips stutter but you claim his lips in a kiss that makes him forget. That reminds him that it’s you and you love him. That you don’t care that he’s not hard-bodied any more and can’t seem to get that way again. You want him. As he is. When you said forever you meant it. Even if you had died once. 

Thor finds his rhythm again and covers your face and neck in tender, heated kisses. He can’t think. It feels so good being between your thighs and having you pinned comfortably under him. The quiet thunderstorm outside and the crack of thunder when he found release inside you. It was so achingly familiar. You wanted one more kiss. One more cuddle. For him to be inside you just a little longer. The comfort of him. The warmth. The feel of his rough hands on your skin. You wanted more but as he held you, your head on his shoulder and his hand on the curve of your ass and the other in your hair as he held you on top of him. “I love you, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I love you so much. Please don’t ever think you’re the problem. It’s me… it’s always me.”

You lift your head up and he kisses your nose, “Thor,” you say softly, but he kisses you quiet. “I know,” he said, “You love me. Regardless of what I look like.” He smiles a little and cards his fingers through your hair tenderly, “You’re always so beautiful. Especially like this. Warm and relaxed. Naked.” He slaps your bottom lovingly and you giggle. This feels so good. So comfortable. You smirk and Thor raises an eyebrow as you start to kiss down his body like you did this morning. Lavishing attention on all his biggest insecurities for a moment. Tenderly reminding him that you adore him. He feels himself blush but he lets you. He lets you adore him. The soft kisses and playful touches. It reminds him of your honeymoon. Of pretending to be asleep to make you keep doing exactly this. He groans and sighs, “Not sure I can go again yet,” he says teasing you. You both know he can. He may be a little soft in the middle now but he still has his stamina. And his appetites. Legendary appetites. “They say sex is good cardio,” you tease back, licking slowly up the underside of his cock, making him throb. “Indeed?” he says, hissing through his teeth, “Well… That changes things, doesn’t it.”

And as you got to work, there was no more time for words. Your husband had a lot to make up for and you were going to make sure he did it. To the fullest extent of his abilities.


End file.
